


Hate You Tomorrow

by DunkMeToHell



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Drunk Sex, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, One Shot, UNFORTUNATELY this isn't the only time i'm gonna be using this ship, [hi jess], [inasmuch as they're definitely screwing but i just won't come out and say it ffs], from like 3 weeks prior, i wrote this like two weeks ago a LOT has happened to the cruiser title since that time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 14:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12483408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DunkMeToHell/pseuds/DunkMeToHell
Summary: Cedric has a surprise late-night conversation with someone he swore he'd never associate with again. [Takes place night of October 9th RAW; no I'm not quick]





	Hate You Tomorrow

He couldn’t sleep. They’d been celebrating Kalisto’s win all night, and the cheers were still ringing loudly in his ears. How many times can a man shout that phrase—“¡LUCHA! LUCHA!”—until his voice was worn out? Cedric rested his fingertips against his throat and let out a painful, hoarse cough. He had definitely reached the limit on that one.

 

Besides the strain of his throat, they’d gotten a little tipsy out there too. There was a little pain behind Cedric’s temples, and in the darkness, the room was not quite resting easily. Everything seemed to be tipping just a bit to the right—he tried to roll a bit to the left to compensate, but only found everything spinning rapidly again. Cedric had been feeling a little bit off-balance for the last few hours, and knew that he should have been completely exhausted. His last memory was saluting at Mustafa as he went down the hall (the hall that was tilting on all four sides, it felt like) before throwing his own door open and sinking face first into his bed.

 

He felt so frustrated—he knew he should have blacked out by now. But his mind remained on, weakly, dimly on, swimming around consciousness but not quite able to touch down into sleep. Something wasn’t right with him.

 

Perhaps it was loneliness. Hotel rooms DID feel a lot quieter and darker lately, now that he was by himself. He had accepted why Neville and Mustafa had decided to be together now—hell, he was over the moon for them. But the emptiness of the room was starting to drip into him, especially after such a celebratory night like this. The contrast was just too much to process right now.

 

Yes. That was the problem. Cedric forced his hand to drop his phone. THAT was the problem, that’s why he couldn’t sleep. This and nothing more.

 

And yet, a second later he was at it again. He picked his phone back up and clicked the light on to the home screen. He saw the time—4:25 AM—and the text message that wasn’t there.

 

“You really roughed me up tonight,” it didn’t say. “Wanna come over and give me a [kiss mark]?”  It had said this by this time tonight every week for the last two weeks, and now there it wasn’t…good. He didn’t miss it. He hated that bastard. God, he hated that smug little bastard. He hated the way he cheated, the way he danced around in the ring and talked shit that he would never back up. That useless, open mouth that was always spewing shit, and then offering back nothing but the stupid, lopsided grin. He did not deserve that belt. He was glad he’d lost that fucking belt. He was glad that he wasn’t talking. He was glad they were past all this.

 

Cedric was so glad, that he told himself why he was so glad for the twentieth time tonight.

 

Speaking of twentieth times, Cedric rolled over onto the other side of his body toward the window, letting the room spin on its axis, and coughed hard, both also for the twentieth time tonight. He really wasn’t built to keep up with Mustafa or Kalisto when celebrating. Celebrating…

 

He tried not to think about it, but the thread of his memory picked up quietly in the back of his brain. He hadn’t celebrated like this in roughly—how long had it been by now? About a month, it seemed, even though when he recalled it, he felt like he was so much younger then. Enzo had just been thrown face-first into the cruiserweight division, and he landed flat in front of Cedric and Gran Metalik. They’d stood him up in time to do their match that night, which they won—no thanks to him, Cedric reminded himself. Mostly Gran and himself.

 

But they’d won it, and if Enzo had any intention to do a damn thing in his life, it was celebrate something, anything—even something as unimportant as a 3-on-3 win was a reason for him to take “his boys” (another thing Enzo would do was call anyone his “boys” the moment he happened to be in a good mood with them, not that it was ever guaranteed to last) out for a round. Or a few rounds. Or more than a few. Cedric had lost track after a certain point, actually. God, he thought he was a bit tipsy tonight, but that night he couldn’t walk upright. He had to lean right into Enzo’s shoulder to upright himself, while Enzo had his cheek pressed against the top of his head. Together they wobbled in and out of balance, swaying from edge to edge of the sidewalk downtown. Clearly, the two of them were not as good at handling their alcohol as Gran was.

 

Cedric didn’t remember a lot from that night. He remembered the swaying and spinning. He remembered stepping sideways, in and out of traffic, and every yell and expletive thrown their way turning into the same cheerful-sounding yelp in his mind. He remembered laughing himself nearly sick (or completely sick, for all he could remember). He remembered that the two of them were still together when they waved off Gran at the parting point in the hallway. He even remembered the way he and Enzo had stared at each other for a long minute after the fact outside his room.

 

After that, Cedric only remembered the night in patches. He remembered darkness, with only a little light seeping in to light their bodies up. He remembered motion—the way his body was moving, the way that his own hands were moving up and down on his chest, the way his panting chest rose and fell below his fingertips.

 

Cedric could remember the next morning much better than he could remember the night that preceded it. Sitting up in confusion, feeling the warm, large lump in the sheets next to him, and then seeing it outlined stark in the bright, blistering light of morning from the window. Pulling that sheet away to see him there, outlined in the light—screaming, waking him, causing a scream from him—and then REMEMBERING, again, and the both of them just laughing so hard, laughing until they felt sick again, after they realized just what they’d done.

 

Cedric buried his face in the pillow. Jesus Christ, he really was a different person when he drank too much.

 

But Enzo, as it turned out, could be a completely different person whenever he wanted. One week and a cheap rollup later, he’d stolen the biggest opportunity Cedric had had right from his palms, and did it all with that big, wide smirk aimed directly at his face. From that moment, Cedric resigned himself to hate, to forget the previous weeks and just succumb to the loathing for the smug bastard that everyone else had already long since fallen to. The next week, when Enzo stole the belt from Neville’s lap, made that hate even easier.

 

Then the next RAW came. They were all in agreement. All the cruiserweights had lined up, and they were all ready. Tonight they were going to cut him apart and rip him to shreds. And then that time came—all of them, in a row, throwing Enzo around the ring like the little plaything he was. By the time they had finished he was lying on the mat, heaving and twisted, broken and burnt. Cedric walked out that night confident that this was the end of it. He watched Enzo in the rearview of his mind’s eye, shrinking further and further out of sight…

 

Then he got the text. THAT text. It was just like him, too: smug, self-assured, completely failing to understand what had just happened, and more than a little tipsy, judging by the grammar. “eyyy whassup babe”? Seeing it made his skin crawl…and yet, for some reason, he smiled. He smiled when he saw that message light up his phone, as if there had suddenly appeared a little bit of shrapnel, some wreckage embedded into his heart that was forcing some affection into his veins with every pump of blood.

 

And the next week it plagued him again. Enzo stood in the center of the ring and looked the whole division in the eyes. He went in a circle, looking each of them in the eyes as he took them on, one by one. Apparently, he didn’t like Cedric’s shirt size, and he made sure his eyes locked with his as he told him that. Cedric was conscious, though, that his grimace had come out much more like a smirk and a laugh.

 

But now tonight had come and gone by, and Enzo didn't have the belt anymore, and it went around another waist that he couldn't cheat it off of this time. Now he really had nothing to lord over Cedric or anyone else in the division, nothing to smirk about, nothing to laugh in overlong Instagram posts about. And Cedric had shown that night, when he went in the ring to cheer around Kalisto, where he stood on the issue. The belt was on someone smarter. Someone more deserving. Someone more talented.

 

Stupid, undeserving, untalented. The thought looped through Cedric's head one more time, as he pushed it through as hard as he could. That's all that Enzo ever was. It was good for everyone that they got the belt off of his waist. He didn't care about the division.

 

Cedric looked at his phone again. 4:40. No missed messages or calls.

 

And he didn't care about anybody in it.

 

The light from the moon tearing through the window was burning his eyes. For a moment Cedric squeezed them shut, and felt bright purple spots dance in his vision. He tried to rub them out with the back of his wrist. .

 

He was so happy, he reasoned with himself. He was happy it ended before it could even begin. He was happy that he ignored the text he received that week. He was happy that he didn’t even care.

 

Cedric was SO happy, in fact, that he didn’t hear the window being pushed open, the pane creaking hard as it was lifted from the bottom. He very nearly didn’t feel the cold gust of wind from the night air flooding in. What he DID notice was the loud thump of something falling flat on the floor in front of him. Cedric sat up, still a bit dizzy. In his spinning vision the curtains were blowing inward from the breeze. The white light of the moon was now pouring into the room, and on the floor—goddammit, he was impossible to miss. In light this bright, his hair was almost fluorescent, and his jacket—half-slunk off already, was reflecting beams of the moon back onto the ceiling. Cedric opened and closed his mouth. How the hell did he even know…? He reached over to the wall and flipped the lamp switch.

 

Enzo looked, in no uncertain terms, like hell. His hair was undone, falling in ridged, wavy bangs all across his face, and fringing his shoulders and face. His eyes were sunken into his face in dark rings—a red face, stretching bright in color across ear to ear. Enzo was panting hard on the floor, hands trembling on his knees. Along his shirt, where he’d crawled in through the window, were several wide rips in the fabric. His wet eyes locked immediately with Cedric’s.

 

They stared for a moment, speechless. Cedric’s mouth gaped for a moment. How the fuck did he manage to get in here like this? His lips flapped open and shut, unable to speak. Luckily, he didn’t have to. A lopsided, shaken smirk spread across Enzo’s face.

 

“Well, fuck….it’s you.”

 

Cedric balled his hand into a fist and gritted his teeth. Where the fuck did he get off feigning ignorance when he was the one who just crawled through his window?

 

“Cedric….Cedric, the Ent—“ Enzo stopped short as his attempt to stand up failed, twisting uneasily on his ankle before falling flat on his ass back on the floor. He’d gone and gotten himself beyond drunk, tonight.

 

“It’s 5.” Cedric said, glaring right into Enzo’s face. In response, Enzo just giggled a bit, legs spread wide as he sat.

 

“Yeah…5 til….5, 5 AM. Why the hhhell are you still awake, buddy?”

 

“Why the hell did you just crawl through my window?!” Cedric exclaimed. He was sitting up in his bed now. Enzo wagged his finger at him.

 

“Nooooo, no…answer me. C’monnnn, w-y-y…we know you’re sleep’ by now.” Enzo’s smirk suddenly vanished, and his eyes became hard. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

 

Cedric’s eyes narrowed. “You mean besides why you just crawled through—“

 

“SSSHHUT the FUCK…” Enzo sniffled, rubbing his nose and looking at the floor. “You know what I mean.” He looked up to Cedric again, and saw the lack of comprehension in his face. His hard eyes now set into a glare.

 

 “GodDAMNit. You’re….you’re fuckin’ _fake as shit_ , you know?”

 

Cedric’s back stiffened at the suddenness of the accusation. “What the hell are you talking about?” Enzo put his shaking hands back onto his shaking knees once more, and forced himself back to his feet. This time, he managed to upright himself, albeit swaying hard. He stumbled over left, and hit the side table, wincing with pain.

 

“Don’t fuckin’….don’t. You son of a bitch, you think you’re cute? Y’all…you get together, you just…steal it.” He grumbled out between gusts of breath.

 

“Stole what?” Cedric pretended not to know.

 

“My BELT, you dumbass. You think…you just wanna take that and, and-d throw it….give it to somebody else? _Kastilo?_ Ain’t been on TV in….grm, two fuckin…two years?” He scuffled the carpet with his shoe, holding onto the table for leverage. Cedric groaned, and laid back flat in his bed. He tried to ignore his heartbeat.

 

“And how’s that make me fake? What the hell are you talking about, Enzo?” Cedric asked, staring up at the ceiling.

 

In a second, Enzo was there, half-crawling, half-stumbling across Cedric’s lap, looming over him. His muscles spasmed in shock as Enzo glared down at him, pupils in his crazed eyes drawn to pinpoints. Cedric attempted to turn over, but Enzo, however drunk, was somehow quicker. He gripped the sheets and tore them off his body.

 

“Look at me, damn it,” Enzo growled. “Y-y-you bastard, think I don’t remember….you, me….out in the ring that night? You just….yknow, you just fffuckin’, you loved bein’ with me when w…when, when we, I won. Right?” Enzo chuckled strangely, and rocked his hips in an approximation of his usual shuffle dance. Cedric gripped the mattress.

 

“You remember…then—“ Enzo paused to hiccup, “Then, Mo Nercy—No Mercy. I….I get what you can’t have, suddenly, not fuckin’ good enough for you, ‘m I?” He chuckled bitterly. “Not fuckin’ good ‘nough. Nah, gotta pick this sunuvabitch and help him pull the belt off me—“

 

Cedric worked the strength in his arm to push Enzo off. He rolled backward and hit the floor, and now, Cedric loomed over the edge of the bed down on Enzo.

 

“You cheated to get that damn belt, Enzo,” Cedric said, dropping the blanket over his face, “No fair win, no fair loss.”

 

Enzo growled, and pawed the blanket off his face. “See, that…that’s what I meant. Fake, fake. You, you’re fuckin’ f-f-faker, you fake-ass—“ another hiccup, “—Cedric. Pretendin’ to wanna be around the G, then turnin’ on him when he…g-got somethin’ you don’t?”

 

Cedric’s arm tensed suddenly, and he fought the urge to reach down and…and what? He at least knew he wanted to pull him up by the shirt neck. Instead, he simply froze, and his throat felt even tighter than before. “You bastard, you turned your back on me” was what his brain was telling him to say, but nothing would come out. While he froze, Enzo’s eyes suddenly softened, lids falling slightly. He gripped Cedric’s arm and moved in close for a second. Cedric slid back from him, and felt his pulse quicken.

 

Then, Enzo smirked lopsidedly again. “You’re drunk, I can tell…you went out n’ partied?”

 

“Not as drunk as you,” Cedric replied, pulling his wrist away. “The hell does it matter to you?” Enzo rolled his neck back, up to the ceiling, and softly laughed.

 

“Cedric…really think, you really fuckin’….can get with _Katsilo_ , think he can party…party th’ same way you can with me?” Enzo asked, stroking his chin lightly.

 

Cedric felt like he would have paled if he could have. “What do you mean?” Now, Enzo paled. He seemed to suddenly realize the double-meaning.

 

“Hang on, hang on…” Enzo stuttered, as if a wave of sobriety had temporarily seized him, “that wasn’t what I…fuck. Goddamn.” The pale of his skin turned dark red. Cedric felt himself get hot.

 

“Look, Cedric-The-Enter…xan…the…I’m takin’ that belt back.” Enzo quickly raised his voice and changed the subject. “Go on n’ make sure your newest buddy hears that, a’right?” Cedric’s lips went into a straight line.

 

“Don’t be too sure ‘bout that one. Kalisto ain’t gonna lose it that easy.”

 

Enzo turned his head back to Cedric. Now it was his turn to ask. “What do ya mean?”

 

Cedric forced himself to chuckle a bit. “You can’t beat him. He’s talented. He deserves it more than you.”

 

Enzo’s whole body suddenly seemed to tremble. His hands clenched tightly into fists—Cedric heard his thumb knuckles pop hard. He shot straight up, suddenly balancing in his anger. “You—you FUCKIN’ LISTEN…I AM GONNA GET THAT GODDAMNED TITLE BACK!”

 

Cedric was shaken by the suddenness of his fury. “What the fuck is the problem?!” He exclaimed, sliding back in the bed.

 

“I NEED THAT FUCKING BELT!” Enzo cried, his voice rising tremulously loud, nearly to the risk of waking up the adjacent rooms.

 

“Why the FUCK do you ‘NEED’ IT?” Cedric answered, raising his voice in kind. He pushed his face close to Enzo’s to intimidate him, even though he felt shaken to his center. Even when he was being an asshole, he’d never acted like this…

 

“I NEED….I…”

 

Cedric now noticed a trembling in Enzo’s eyes—a slow, gentle trembling that slowly began to spread through his face. Cedric backed an inch up. Enzo’s eyes fell to the floor. “I…I need it. I’m…I’m fuckin’ nothin’ without it.” He sank to his knees on the ground. Cedric blinked.

 

“What?—“

 

“I’M FUCKIN’ NOTHING!” Enzo shouted, this time sure that everyone in adjacent rooms would hear. Cedric’s body jolted and shrank back. Enzo’s body sank towards the floor, his shoulders shrugging forward, hands on the carpet. “Do you need me to say it? I’m, I-I’m just fucking…I’m a goddamned nobody.”

 

Cedric bit his lip. “Enzo…listen, without the belt—“

 

“No, no,” Enzo sniffed, swatting away Cedric’s words with his hand. “No, f-fuck what I said, alright? It don’t matter. You’re right. Belt…don’t matter. I didn’t…” Enzo huffed a few times, his chest rising and falling below his shirt. He pawed his eyes with his wrist and kept his face turned away. “I didn’t even fuckin’ win it in the first place. Didn’t belong on me. I’m sorry.”

 

Cedric’s eyes widened. “Enzo?”

 

“Goddammit,” Enzo choked out, turning his face toward the ceiling and rubbing his hands along his jaw. He tried to hide it, but Cedric could see that his eyes were wet. “Goddammit. I don’t think I can keep livin’ like this. Can’t keep doin’ this forever…”

 

“What?” Cedric asked, his voice soft. Enzo raked a hand through his hair.

 

“Can’t live with myself, just bein’ this way, I….I’m so goddamned…God, I’m disgusting. How the fuck, how do I even look at myself…shit, what the fuck am I doing here? I just don’t fuckin’….” Enzo took a ragged breath in, and his face fell back into his knees. “It’s true, y’all are right, I don’t…I don’t represent 205…I don’t represent anything’ to do with this company. I don’t belong here. I don’t know why the hell I’m here or where I get off…thinkin’ I have a place here. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

Cedric’s lips were now clamped shut. He desperately wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think of a single word that he thought would fit. Instead, he lifted a hand out, and reached very slowly towards Enzo’s face. Without even looking up, Enzo quietly gripped his fingers and clenched them in his hand. Cedric could feel his body trembling through his touch. Tremors, shakiness of breath…rising and falling beneath the touch of his fingertips.

 

“I’m sorry. Goddammit…” Enzo half-whispered, his eyes squeezed shut, “I can’t blame you. I ruin shit all the damn time…shoulda been your ass in that belt, instead of me.” He quietly let go of Cedric’s hand. “Just a waste of space…you, you hate me. And…you should…you should.”

 

Something about that activated a reflex in Cedric. He reached over, under Enzo’s chin, and forced their eyes to lock again. Enzo’s eyes were leaking, and Cedric felt the residue of tears caught in his beard. He could feel his own eyes burning a little bit, as well.

 

“Do you honestly think that I forgot….” Cedric spoke slowly, to make sure the words penetrated Enzo’s mind, “about what we did that n—“

 

Cedric forced himself to shut off, biting his lower lip shut. He couldn’t finish. The look in Enzo’s eyes when he spoke up was too much—widening, then shrinking with the memory. He flushed, and his muscles tensed. The expression stole all the words out of Cedric’s mouth, leaving him dry…and Enzo, evidently, had been shut off by the remark as well. His mouth was open, slightly, but no noise came out. They simply stared, feeling the space open between them…slowly, they both moved in closer to each other. It was Enzo who finally tore his eyes away, turning his face from Cedric and quietly rubbing his neck. Cedric felt hot, and looked away into the corner as well.

 

The room had stopped spinning, at least. But goddamn, he felt himself burning all over.

 

The quiet lasted about a minute, and they felt every second of it. Enzo rubbed his eyes a bit more, and sniffed hard. Slowly, he pieced himself back together. After the minute had passed, he was the first to speak up.

 

“Cedric…” Enzo said, in an unusually soft voice. It was so soft—the softest he had ever been, in fact—that it caught Cedric off-guard, and caused him to turn his head quickly back to him. Enzo flushed a bit again and avoided his eyes.

 

“What?” Cedric asked, encouragingly.

 

“I…you know, when we met that first time…I kind of got scared of you.”

 

Cedric cocked his head to the side questioningly. “What for?”

 

“I mean…not of you. But what you did to my head…” Enzo looked down at the floor as he seated himself next to Cedric on the bed. “When we met…I felt somethin’—just you, in particular. I…”

 

Cedric hung on as Enzo slowly trailed off. “What, what?” He asked, perhaps a bit too interestedly.

 

“I felt like…” Enzo chuckled with embarrassment, before continuing, “I felt like we were gonna be friends. Good ones, too.”

 

The look that twisted onto Cedric’s face must have been hilarious, as Enzo laughed rather hard upon seeing it.

 

“I mean…that fucked with my head. I got scared by that,” Enzo went on, looking down into his lap. “I…trust’s a bitch, man. I know I just pushed you...y’know, I pushed you away. You and Gran and…damn, everyone now…”

 

They frowned and were quiet again. They both understood that there really was nothing that could be done to fix it anytime soon. Enzo sat his hand on his chin, and forlornly turned his head away. The silence set in again.

 

Gently, Cedric laid a hand against Enzo’s thigh, causing him to quietly jolt to attention. “Enzo. Listen to me. You’re right about a few things. I…I don’t ‘like’ you. Not right now. I can’t.”

 

Enzo nodded slowly, and understood. Cedric went on, “but it…doesn’t have to be like that for the rest of your life, alright? It’ll take a lot but…maybe…” He blushed and faltered. Damn, he was not good at talking, and Enzo seemed to be drifting away again. “Look. You don’t quit, alright? You’re an asshole, and we need a good asshole on TV. You’re…you’re a part of the program.”

 

Enzo’s eyes flickered back up. “You’d like me right now if I hadn’t fucked up before…” he failed to hide the little smirk at the edge of his face. Cedric felt himself fighting off an urge to hold that face in his hands…what the hell was it about that smile that always had that effect on him?

 

“You need to sleep,” Cedric said…slowly, he scooted away from the edge of the bed. Enzo squinted at him questioningly. “Listen, Enzo. Tomorrow night, I don’t know what the hell is going to happen...just that...we just hate each other, okay? We don't get along. Those matches with Gran never happened, we never teamed, as far as the audience cares, nothing happened."

 

Enzo nodded. "Right. You're right, man..." He shifted his body momentarily, as if he would get up to leave (but where?) when he suddenly felt the pressure of Cedric's hand on his thigh again. He settled back down—closer to Cedric, now, than before. They both felt it. Their pulses increased a bit, their heartbeat get a little louder. They were remembering it. The darkness. The laughter. The slow-quick, gentle-rough touch, that friction and motion set up between them that had left them panting those weeks before. Cedric felt himself feel hotter, and realized suddenly that more memories were slowly dripping back. The feeling of his hair, that wonderful, stupid fucking hair when he gripped and pulled it back. The way he sounded when he moaned out his name into the dark...the way that smug smirk looked when it was outlined in the moonlight. That same smirk that was playing at the edges of Enzo's lips right now as he realized what it was Cedric was wanting. Cedric saw that smirk again and felt himself get hard with the thought. He looked down to see if Enzo...goddammit, those fucking baggy pants he always wore. He couldn't stand it any more. Cedric reached out and snatched Enzo's face, and held it up against his. They stared right into each other, bridges pressed together. They felt the other's breath against their lips.

 

"Enzo...sleep with me tonight." There wasn't an ounce of a request in Cedric's tone.

 

Enzo's little smirk blew up into a full smile, sheerly blissful. He ran his hands around Cedric's neck and shoulders and pulled him in—now Cedric could feel it as their bulges pressed together—and tilted up his head. Enzo kissed along Cedric's neck, up around his jaw until he reached his ear. Cedric groaned and fell back, pulling Enzo on top of him. Enzo moaned and straddled his hips, keeping his lips close to his ear.

 

"Aww...what about all that shit about me and you not havin' any history?" Enzo breathed, playfully. Cedric tightened his grip on Enzo's waistline, and reached up to the light switch. He smirked back at him as he hit the lights off.

 

"Don't worry. I'll hate you tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> [Enzo's pretty hammered by the way; any misspellings of Kalisto/the incorrect statement that he hadn't wrestled for two years are therein intentional.]


End file.
